Click images for desktop size: "Desert Roses" by EvegneyFor the past days I've been working on a memorial for my little blind dog.
About 20 hours of intense concentration, which is a long time for me. It served one purpose. It didn't expunge the grief but it reminded me of what I loved about the little guy and how that love led us to nothing but fun.
The project turned out bigger than I thought. I hope the effort is justified by the end result. When its completed it should be a nice keep sake for my friend. Although the little blind dog was my friend she was her friend also.
I can't say what it will end up being yet. I just hope that when its completed she'll feel the same way I do while I'm making it.
One thing I clearly remembered is that, like people, dogs never truly leave us. When they've entered your life they remain always a part of it. Like the Southern Gypsy who saw the ghosts trailing behind me, ghosts of people and dogs. Give her credit for either being very clever or being genuine.
When I look back and remember them I don't remember so much of the tragic circumstances of their leaving. Not even much of their heroism. I remember the goofiness, the smiles, the laughs.
Dogs have emotions. They have a sense of humour. They like to play tricks on you and tell you jokes. Dog jokes are pretty stupid but dogs find them incredibly funny.
Like my first Belgian Shepherd would come to work with me at the recording studio. She got bored so set herself up as an official greeter. When clients came in she led them up the stairs to the lounge. I guess she carried on some scintillating conversation. I know that a lot of clients would come back with their friends to show off the hostess dog.
What I found incredible was that she could tell the difference between clients and salesman and guys who just wandered in off the street. They were all strangers to her so I never figured out what clues she used to tell the difference between the important people and the annoyances. My receptionist used to say that it was because my dog could smell the money in the clients pockets.
My little survivor Belgian used to steal my glasses from the bed side table every night. She never hurt or damaged them but she took them every night and hid them.
Each of my mornings would start with a search for my glasses. She always pretended to help. Being a dog she only knew of two hiding places: In her toy box or under the kitchen chair I never sat in.
She'd scurry all over the house "helping" me look. When I'd get close to them she'd run up and snatch them before I could touch them, dance around with them in her mouth and demand a cookie for being so helpful to me.
My little blind dog was the most determined dog I'd ever seen. He moved with an elegant sashaying stoicism that impressed even strangers.
With all his maladies he was suffering. He had to be but he never let it get in the way of his good times. He would teach me that the world is different when your handicapped but its still a beautiful place. Every time he pushed his way to the front of the pack to make sure he got his treat he taught me something.
Click images for desktop size: "Expedition to Hell" by Alex Iuss I need more friends then that.
Following his example made it easier to cope with my own physical discomfort. That's one of the least things I'm grateful to him for.
I still miss him. As empty as this house feels now my world would have been even emptier without him.

I have house guests coming. My puppies brother! (Littermate for the pedantic.)
We count on good times and fun even if the visit is going to be too short. Well, its the old show biz adage, I guess: "Always leave them wanting more!"
The only drawback to having house guests is the pre-arrival house cleaning. I know its so they'll feel comfortable but it always feels like paying pre-fun penance, or an attempt to deceive people that, "Yes, I always live in this high state of sanitation and sterility. I'm not a bum, no siree, not me."